


they will soar on wings like eagles (they will run and not grow weary)

by schoolboys



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - War, Barely Legal, Fighter Pilots, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Library Sex, M/M, POV Second Person, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schoolboys/pseuds/schoolboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jenson is an experienced fighter pilot. nico is a boy with thwarted dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they will soar on wings like eagles (they will run and not grow weary)

You meet him for the first time on the football pitch when you're sixteen, running headfirst into each other. It hurts, of course, and you end up with bruises all over and he has a scrape on his knee and there's blood and he bites his lip, brow furrowed, looking at it.

'You okay?' you ask, worried. You're on your feet soon enough, and then you're pulling him up, letting him rest his weight on you as you walk. Someone shouts at you but you can't hear what they're saying, all you know is that this boy you've never seen before is leaning against you and it feels just right and it's the weirdest thing you have ever experienced in your entire life. 'I'll get you to the Matron, okay?'

He nods, dragging his leg as you start walking with him.

 

'I'm Nico. Nico Rosberg,' he says later on, when you're both at the Matron and she's fussing about, muttering under her breath about how boys are so careless and they never learn. He runs a hand through his long blonde hair and then he smiles, cocking his head to the side. 'Sorry about earlier.'

'Don't worry about it,' you say, trying to sound reassuring. You're pretty sure you've failed. 'Jenson Button. You can call me JB. Nice meeting you.'

 

The second time you meet Nico is in the dining hall. You've never seen him in your hall before and movement between halls is generally discouraged, so it puzzles you as to why he's here.

'Roommate problems,' he says later on, settling down next to you for dinner. 'They decided it'd be better for me to move out.'

'Oh really,' you say, licking your lips. 'You sure it wasn't you?'

'Nope.'

You've heard stories of people getting up to all sorts of things — sleeping naked without the covers and wanking into tissues without caring if someone else is in the room, shouting in the middle of the night and sleepwalking... And your mind drifts to some weird incident in your hall that happened the semester before and you can't hide your look of disgust fast enough and Nico notices, laughing.

'It's not what you think,' Nico says, smiling. 'But I'm glad to be out.'

'Congratulations then,' you say, grinning, and he leans in, looking at you with a grin of his own.

 

Nico joins your team the next time you play on the football pitch. He's good, plays midfield and helps to score the only goal during your game and later on, when you're slapping him on the back telling him that he played well, he runs a hand through his hair (long and golden, shining brightly in the sun) and asks 'Really?' And you nod and he grins and your team cheers as you head back to your hall together, singing at the top of your voices.

 

'You know, you're actually using the wrong equation.'

You turn your head sharply and you hear your neck cracking and it hurts. 'Yeah?'

'I noticed,' Nico says, pointing to the working on your Maths worksheet. You're sitting together during prep time and it's only eight thirty in the evening but your eyelids are getting heavy already and your pen keeps slipping on the paper, leaving awkward lines all over.

'Oh,' you say, raising an eyebrow. 'Wait. You're a year younger, aren't you?'

'Yeah,' he says, running his hand through his hair. 'Just that. Uh. I like Maths so. Anyway if you continue you're not going to get the answer, you-'

'So you're watching me now huh, Rosberg?' you tease.

His cheeks flush pink. 'I was just taking a break and I happened to look at... Wait, I don't have to explain myself to you!'

You laugh and he glares at you, but his expression softens when you say 'So where did I go wrong again?'

 

You don't mean to miss class but you have a horrible headache from pulling an all-nighter to complete a lab report from Chemistry class so here you are at the Matron's lying on a bed, making generic noises of misery and pain from time to time. Nico's sitting on the bed beside yours looking at you with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed as he waits for the Matron to return.

'How did you get that?' you ask, rolling over to look at Nico's injury. He's got his left trouser leg pushed all the way up to his thigh to reveal an awful looking scrape on his knee and he's got blood on his white school shirt.

'Slipped and fell,' he says. You're about to comment on how accident prone he is when the Matron returns with bandages and antiseptic cream. She shakes her head, getting out some cotton wool and when she cleans his wound, he howls in pain and you wince.

 

The sky is a beautiful shade of blue and the sun is warm on your skin and you're lying next to Nico on the grass after football, looking at the clouds. The birds soar higher and higher and almost everyone has left for the showers but you're still here, arm outstretched as if you're trying to catch a cloud.

'Hey JB?'

'Yeah?'

'What are you going to do after you graduate?'

You're seventeen now. Last year in uniform and then it's off to university for you. That is, _if_ you make it. But that's bullshit because you're supposed to make it. Everyone in your school does.

'I don't know,' you answer. The words fall easily from your lips, but you know that's not true. Well, not exactly.

'Huh.'

A bird flies past, and you reach out, tracing its trajectory across the sky.

'A pilot, maybe.'

'Oh. Um. Commercial?'

'Maybe.' You pause. 'My uncle was in the military.'

'Oh.'

'You?'

'Pilot.' He says it with far more conviction than you.

You turn, nudging him in the side. 'So I'll be seeing you around even after we get out of here?'

'Hopefully?' His eyes widen, like he's just realised that he might've said something wrong and you laugh, rolling over on your stomach. You grab a fistful of grass and sprinkle it over his face and he yelps, retaliating with an elbow to your side.

 

It's a Maths class just before lunch and you're not paying attention, looking out of the window, palm against your chin. Your conversation with Nico replays inside your head, and all you can think of is how he had looked when you had suggested that you'd be seeing each other around in the future. It'd looked like joy and hope and something else and you don't know what it is but oh, it feels nice, enveloping you with warmth.

 

You're falling asleep, nodding off every couple of seconds and it's not even fifteen minutes into prep time. Nico kicks your shin hard as your Hall Master walks by, and you sit up with a start, knocking your bottle of water over. It turns out that you'd forgotten to screw the cap shut properly, and the water spills out all over Nico.

His shirt clings to him, and his trousers are soaking wet. You stare at him, unblinking, and your Hall Master tuts disapprovingly.

'I hate you,' Nico says, hurrying off to change, but there's no heat in his words. If anything, there's more amusement at how the Hall Master is chastising you for your clumsiness and you're not listening, really, because you're far too busy watching how Nico's hips sway as he walks off to get changed.

 

You bump into Nico in the library when he's searching for some book, and he's standing on tiptoes trying to get to a book.

'Too short for the top shelf?' you ask, pulling the book down with ease.

'I could've gotten it myself,' he says hotly, but he takes the book from you when you hand it to him. _Flight Mechanics_ , it reads. Preparing himself well for university even though he's a year below you.

He's about to leave, but you block his way. 'Are you forgetting something,' you say with a grin.

'Thanks,' he says, using to book to hit your side and oof, it hurts, but he's smiling and he's waving as he walks away and there it is again, the warm, fuzzy feeling that spreads through you as you look at his retreating figure.

 

You're in the dining hall staring straight into space and you haven't touched your food ever since you sat down and it isn't anything really, it's just that you're not really focusing on anything ever since you had gotten your Maths test back in the morning with a glaring red _fail_ scrawled on the top.

Someone taps your shoulder, and you turn, only to have a finger pressing against your cheek.

'Not funny, Rosberg,' you mutter but oh, you're amused alright. 'That trick's mine to use.'

Nico laughs, sliding into the seat in front of you. 'What's bugging you?'

'Nothing,' you say, rubbing at your neck self-consciously.

 

'Not too difficult, isn't it,' Nico says with a triumphant grin. Prep time is almost over, and he's leaning into you, arm pressed against yours as he points at the working on your Maths worksheet with his pencil. You like his warmth, so close to you, and you're trying hard to concentrate but it's so difficult because of his proximity. 'Wait. You're not listening!'

'I am,' you assure him hastily. You could listen to him speak all day, to be honest. You've heard him practise his languages and the way he switches is swift and fluid and you don't even know how that all works out because you end up tripping over your tongue all the time.

He looks at you, frowning with his nose all scrunched up and really, you want to lean in and kiss him on the tip of his nose and god that's frightening because you really shouldn't want it and-

'Jenson?'

'Y-yeah?' You rub at your temples. It's getting late. You're falling asleep. This must be it.

'If you're tired we can do this tomorrow,' Nico says, voice soft. He's no longer pressed close, and there's a gap between the both of you again and you ache and you don't even know why.

'Yeah,' you say, looking at him apologetically. 'Sorry. Tomorrow night, I promise I'll get it then.'

Nico looks at you, eyes unreadable. There's a sad sort of smile on his lips, but it's gone within seconds and you blink, unsure if you had been hallucinating. 'You don't have to promise me anything.'

The words _I know_ almost make it out of your lips, but you shut your mouth just in time and you swallow hard and you nod.

 

Tonight you make it a point to pay attention to what Nico's teaching you. You do your best to tune out everything, from how close he sits, chair angled towards you to how it feels when his skin brushes against yours. _Electric_. Oh god.

'You know, you've got this,' Nico says later on when you're done with two different sets of practice worksheets for Calculus. 'You just need to be more careful when you calculate.'

You look at him, and all you notice is the swipe of his tongue across his lower lip and how wet and soft and kissable they look.

 _More careful_ , he says, and you want to lean in and you do, just a little bit, just a little more.

'Jenson?' Nico looks at you, confused.

'I,' you begin, but you're not sure of what you should say. You're still staring at his lips. Your name sounds perfect when he says it. Like it belongs there. 'I, uh.' You're never tongue-tied. You're _Jenson Button_ , for god's sake. You'd shoot your mouth off to save your skin. You look up at him, eyes assessing. 'Nico.'

Nico looks at you, silent. You want to reach for him, but a shout from across the room reminds you that you're not alone, this is prep and there are people all around, there are people _watching_. So you move away, staring at your worksheet.

'Thanks,' you say. There had been something there. _Something_ , but you're not even sure what it is and it burns so badly.

Later on, you find Nico's hand placed lightly on your thigh, squeezing gently before pulling away. You look at him, startled, and there's a shy smile on his lips.

'Goodnight,' Nico says, gathering his things.

'Goodnight,' you reply, grinning.

 

You start out slow, with Nico's fingers creeping up from the inside of your wrist to the crook of your elbow before he's pulling away and trying hard not to laugh because it's _prep_ and anyone could see but he's daring and ridiculous and insane. And you end up kissing behind the shed near the track beneath the trees and you can hear the sound of the other boys singing at the top of their voices as they train for their cross-country races but you're here with Nico, cradling his head with one hand as you pull him in for a kiss, all wet and sloppy. When he pulls away, breathless, his eyes are shining and there's something fluttering in your chest and it's beautiful, he's beautiful.

'Kiss me again,' Nico orders, and you fight back the urge to laugh because he's a mess, hair out of place and collar unbuttoned and tie undone and shirt untucked and there's a smudge of dirt on his cheek and you cup his cheek, brushing it away with your thumb.

'So impatient,' you murmur, and he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth knock against one another, and his hand fists in your shirt as you taste each other, hot and eager.

The breeze is cool and the leaves rustle, and all is well with the both of you.

 

Nico's breath is hot against your cheek and his fingers are shaky as he touches you and you can't help but think that he seems more like he's sixteen like this, flush high on his cheeks not too sure what to do when he's in your bed rather than when he's sitting beside you during prep, doing your Maths homework together and he looks over at your worksheets and points out your mistakes far too easily even though he's not supposed to have learnt it because he's a year younger than you.

'Jenson,' he says, voice a breathy exhale and you reach for him, fisting your hand in his shirt as you pull him down for another kiss. When he pulls away he licks his lips, panting 'Your roommate-'

'Water polo practice,' you say with a grin. 'We have half an hour. It'll be fine. Come on, lose your shirt.'

He looks down at you and he's _pouting_ , his lower lip sticks out but he pulls his shirt off anyway and throws it in the general direction of your desk and he makes a pleased sort of noise when it actually lands on top of your notebooks. 'Hey,' he says, not quite daring to look at you and you grin, jerking your hips forward to grind against him. He squeaks, embarrassed but he likes what you're doing because he leans in, rubbing himself against you.

'You like that?' you ask, and he nods furiously, gasping when you shove a hand in between the both of you to touch him through his clothes.

'How-' The question dies in his throat when you reach for the button of his trousers and by the time you've got your hand in his underwear, touching him directly, he's mewling and whimpering, hips bucking forward, eager for more contact with your palm.

You laugh shakily because god, the way he's reacting to you is glorious. He glares at you when you pull your hand away, but when you tug at his clothes to free his cock his eyes widen as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly. To be honest you're not really sure what you're doing and how far you'd be able to go with Nico, it seems like he's never been with anyone else like this before, let alone another boy and well. He's struggling to prop himself up above you with his arms, biting hard on his lower lip as you touch him. You rub your thumb against the leaking slit of his cock, spreading the wetness around and he lets out a choked sob.

'It's okay,' you say, rubbing in slow, concentric circles and god there's something about Nico like this, with his eyes squeezed shut and his cheeks all red, taking pleasure from your hand on his cock.

' _Jenson_ ,' Nico whines when you stop, he's not quite sure if he should reach down and touch himself or to stay put and to be honest you've never gone this far with anyone else before, sure you've fumbled with other boys but you've never had anything like this. You lift your hips, tugging off your trousers and underwear and he looks down at you, swallowing hard when he sees your cock. He bites his lip, and you're about to move but instead he reaches in between the both of you to touch you and you groan, feeling his hand on you. 'Does it feel good?' he asks, voice almost shy and you nod because you don't have any words for this.

It's awkward, in a way, he's trying to jerk you off but he's not really in a good position to and really, you want more than this. So you get him to shift, and you spit in your palm and his eyes widen, surprised. You grin, and he nearly falls on to you when you get him flush against you, his cock touching yours. When you take the both of you in your hand he almost collapses on to you and you bite back a laugh as he gasps, hips bucking forward, eager for more friction. It doesn't take long before he's telling you he can't take any more, he's going to come and when he does it's with a shout that's too loud but oh, you'd remember to kiss him next time.

Nico's elbow is too sharp and it digs into the inside of your arm but you're too far gone to even care by now and when you come you get it all over the both of you and it's sticky and warm on your stomach. He lies on top of you, body a comfortable weight radiating heat and this wasn't really how you had imagine it would turn out, but it comes pretty close to that ideal in your head and when he presses a kiss to your neck, you smile.

 

You see Nico along the corridors and in the stairwells in between classes, and you somehow bump into each other in the library again with Nico searching for yet another library book. He grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to shelves filled with strange smelling books and his eyes dart around, checking for people before he leans up (on tiptoes, of course) and kisses you on the lips.

'That's a nice way to say hello,' you say when he pulls away, and he laughs.

'I miss you,' Nico says, and you raise an eyebrow because you've been seeing him around often. 'Um. I mean.' His cheeks colour and he looks down and you look at him, confused for a moment before you realise what he's referring to.

'Ahh,' you say, and you give him your filthiest grin. He looks at you, mortified. You lean in to whisper in his ear, making sure he can feel your hot breath on his skin. 'I'll arrange something,' you say, deliberately pushing your voice lower, and when you pull away, you find that his face is impossibly red and the flush has reached his ears and neck and god, he's so adorable it hurts.

 

Instead of playing football with the rest of the boys today, you play tennis with Nico, and there's hardly anyone around as you serve and volley. You're both impatient because this isn't what you really want to do, the important bit happens _afterwards_ , and your focus is so bad that Nico almost hits you with the ball.

'Focus,' Nico calls out, serving again and you raise an eyebrow but you run forward anyway and so it goes, on and on because if you're playing tennis then well, Nico insists that you go _all the way_ and his cheeks flush in embarrassment when you tease him about it.

You lose, of course. It's hard not to, when half the time you're just watching the way Nico moves, in his shorts and polo-tee as he runs around and when he bends over you're just staring at the fine curve of his arse and he's yours, he's all yours and you have no words for that.

When you're done packing up you head for the showers that no one likes to use because it's so far away, they'd rather go back to their halls with their clothes clinging to their skin soaked in perspiration than shower here and walk back only to find that they would have to shower again as a result of the long walk.

As expected, you're the only ones in the showers, and you pull Nico into a shower stall really quickly, kissing him as the water pours overhead. He laughs, saying that it's like kissing in the rain, his hair all wet, sticking to his cheeks and you grin, saying that yeah, this is as close as you'll probably ever get. Then he's looking at you, unsure of what he should be doing and you grin, getting down on your knees.

'Jenson,' Nico gasps, and there's something about him saying your name instead of calling you _JB_ , like he always does, that gets to you. He backs up against the wall, you'd specifically chosen the shower stall right at the end for this and he looks away, almost embarrassed when you touch him.

'Shh,' you say. He's hard, trying not to thrust into your palm as you stroke him slowly, then you lean in and press a kiss to the tip of his cock and the sound that leaves his lips is divine. You don't really have much experience doing this, just that once or twice with one of your seniors the year before and you look up at Nico, watching his reaction. You have one hand curled around the base of his cock while you lap at the tip, slow licks, teasing. He's got a finger shoved into his mouth, biting down hard so as not to make a sound and he's cute like this, other hand fisted tight against the wall. You rub your tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock and slowly, you take his cock into your mouth. The trick is to relax your jaw, you know that, wrap your lips around your teeth so it doesn't hurt him and soon enough he's trying hard not to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth.

But it's okay, it really is, for him to rock his hips forward and you push yourself to take as much as you can into your mouth, then you're bobbing your head up and down, blowing him and by then he's forgotten all about keeping quiet, and all that leaves his lips is an endless litany of _oh god yes please don't stop oh god_. When he comes it's a harsh gasp with your name on his lips and he's trembling beneath you, knees shaky and you haul yourself up with his taste on your lips and your tongue and you kiss him hard, threading your fingers through his wet hair and he opens up to you and he's actually chasing the taste of himself from your tongue and it's gross, god you're sticky and wet and weird but here he is, clinging to you with his hand on your shoulder like he doesn't want to let go.

Then his hand moves lower, down your torso and then he's gripping your cock in his hand, jerking you off as you kiss him and he shows no signs of pulling away, content to stay like this while he touches you. His hand is clumsy but it can hardly matter because it's him, he's trying to repeat what you did to him with your hand and then you're the one who's pulling away because you need to catch your breath, god you've been hard since you had started sucking him off and it doesn't take much before you're coming all over his hand.

Later on, when you're actually showering, Nico looks at you shyly, like he doesn't quite dare to look at your naked body.

'Like what you see?' you ask, turning and spreading your arms so he can see everything and Nico's eyes dart towards the ground instead, before flickering up again, like he's embarrassed to be caught looking at you.

'Yeah,' he says, nodding, and you grin.

 

Days later after your encounter in the shower stalls, you run into Nico in the library (a common occurrence, he seems to be living half his life there really) and he drags you off to a corner that you're absolutely positive it did not exist until today, muttering something about how you should shut up and stop asking questions as you protest even more just to rile him up.

'What-' you don't get to complete your sentence before Nico's kissing you sweetly, on tiptoes and everything. You relax, just a little because it's still the _library_ for god's sake, anyone could walk by and when you feel his hand on you, touching you through your trousers you gasp, breaking the kiss. 'Nico, what are you-'

'Shh,' he says, imitating you and you laugh because god, the nerve. He grins, still touching you and you lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows in the empty space of the shelf behind you, then he's making quick work of your trousers and underwear and when he frees your cock, touching directly, you groan.

You don't really know where this is going, he's just looking at you with a determined expression and _oh_ , he's getting down on his knees and you know that there's going to be patches on his trousers from where he's kneeling on the carpet and he's kissing the tip of your cock, pressing his lips there before parting them slowly, tongue darting out for a taste. God, he's such a tease, giving you nothing but small licks, then he's moving, licking and kissing all over your cock, and he looks up at you as he licks a wet stripe on your cock, tracing a vein on the underside and you're so screwed, there's no way in hell you're going to be able to keep quiet like this. He holds your gaze, as he parts his lips, moist and sinful, then he's taking you into his mouth, eyes dropping back down as he tries to take more of you in, one hand pressing on your hip because you're too far gone, one hand in his hair pushing his head down. You don't want to choke him, you don't even know if he's done this before but you suppose not because he lets slip that you're the first person he's ever been this close to and you don't want to ruin this but god, it feels so good, _so good_ -

You come in Nico's mouth, biting down so hard on your lower lip that you draw blood and you're still holding his head down and Nico's looking up at you, eyes wide in panic and some of it dribbles out the corner of his mouth and then he's swallowing and god, oh god. He looks embarrassed and his collar is dirty now and you pull your hand away as he draws back, cleaning you up with his tongue before tucking you back into your clothes. Where the hell did he learn to do that, you'll never know, then he's standing up wiping at his lips with the back of his hand and you're pretty certain that it tastes really gross. And of course, you notice the tent in his trousers and then you're pulling him in for a kiss and he squeaks, startled when you cup him through his clothes and all it takes is for you to apply some pressure and he's coming, hips bucking against your hand.

There's a wet stain on Nico's trousers and his collar is dirty and his hair sticks out and he looks like a filthy mess.

'I hate you,' Nico says, miserable as he looks at his soiled clothing, and you laugh, kissing him on his forehead. He isn't appeased and you sigh, taking off your jumper, pulling it over his head. He looks up at you, puzzled, and you move back, admiring your handiwork. It's too big for him, of course, but it reaches the top of his thighs, covering the stain, and that's the most important part.

'There,' you say. 'Better?'

He wrinkles his nose, pulling your jumper closer around him, but it isn't long before a smile tugs at his lips and he's knocking his shoulder against you, pleased.

 

You're in Chemistry class and your teacher is going on and on and on about chemical bonding because this is revision for your final exams but all you can think of at the moment is Nico, sweet Nico leaning close and laughing when he finds that you've balanced your Chemical equations wrongly, squeezing your thigh lightly under the table during prep time before moving away pretending that nothing had happened. And your teacher reminds your class that you've got to work hard to get into university, your exams will be taking place in a month's time and you haven't got much time left.

 _One more month_ , you think. It's the end of an era, your last few days in school uniform, and you don't feel ready.

 

Nico huffs at you as you try to steal a kiss, you're studying together on your bed and your roommate's out for the weekend and Nico's trying to get you to work on this silly Maths problem when really, you've gotten it already. You're just feigning at not understanding to get him to teach you.

'Your exam's next Friday,' Nico says, and his lower lip sticks out in a pout. 'Can't you pay some attention?'

'Yes sir,' you say, trying to sound suitably chastised, and he glares at you. He's adorable like this, golden hair falling into his eyes, lying on his stomach beside you.

' _Jenson_ ,' he says, drawing out your name, nudging you hard in your ribs. You yelp because this one's real, it _hurts_ , then you find yourself pushed over so that you're lying on your back and he's straddling your hips, lowering himself so that he's nose to nose with you. 'Would you concentrate better if I do this?' he asks, rolling his hips and you groan.

'Oh yes,' you reply, rocking your hips forward to grind against him. 'God yes.'

 

Nico's sitting with his legs outstretched, leaning back against a tree and the leaves provide shade from the sun, shadows creating patterns on his skin. Your head is on his lap, you're lying down on the grass and it's a beautiful day, far too beautiful to be spent studying, but your languages exam is in two days' time and you've got to practice, and Nico's the perfect partner to do so. When he recites the words you place your finger on his lips, feeling how he says it, and he's content to let you touch him like this as he reads to you. And you reply when he asks you questions, but the syllables fall like stones from your lips without grace, but he's smiling at you and answering anyway and like this you feel like you're invincible. He plays with your hair, twirling his fingers in your hair and you smile, tugging at his tie to pull him in for a kiss.

The wind blows and the leaves fall. The clock chimes — it's almost time to go back to your hall for dinner and reluctantly, you get up.

 

You're almost done with your exams now, most of the boys from the lower forms have gone home already but Nico's still here. When you ask him if he's staying to keep you company he laughs nervously, looking away, mumbling something about being lonely at home, and when no one's around you pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him and you tell him that he's got you here and it'll be fine. He clings to you, grateful, then he's pulling away and nudging you and telling you that you're not the only one he knows here and you try it out, the pout that he puts on so easily but it makes him crack up and you're rolling your eyes as he shakes with laughter.

 

Nico's there in your room, sitting on your bed as he watches you pack your things into your suitcase. You're leaving now that your exams are over, you'll come back to school for the release of your results but otherwise your time here is done. You've graduated. Your parents are coming to pick you up, they should be arriving any time soon.

'I'm not leaving you,' you say, cupping Nico's cheek. There's no one to worry about now that your roommate has already left.

'I know.' Nico doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes on the ground and you swallow hard.

'I'll see you next year,' you say, pulling Nico into a hug. 'We'll keep in touch, okay?'

He clings to you like he doesn't want to let go and truth is, you don't want to leave if it means that you'll be without him. But life has to go on, and when you finally part, his eyes are shining and it looks a lot like tears. He's got one hand fisted in your shirt, and he looks at you, saying 'I...' But he falters, and then he shakes his head.

'Nico?'

'It's nothing,' he says, looking down.

'Hey,' you say, putting your fingers on his chin, lifting his head up. His eyes are wet with tears and god, you're about to cry too. But you lean in and kiss his eyelids and he's silent when you pull away. 'Keep your head up. It'll be fine.'

'Jenson,' he says, catching your wrist. He swallows, like he's trying to gather courage, and you look at him with a lump in your throat. 'I. Um.' You wait, and the seconds tick by, feeling like an eternity. 'I... Good luck,' he finishes, wincing at his words.

'Thanks,' you say. He reaches to cup your cheek, and you bend closer.

'For one last time?' he asks, voice quiet.

You kiss him, soft, patient. 'It's not the last time,' you say, but your voice is shaky, uncertain.

 

It's not the same when you come back for the release of your results. You're surrounded by the boys from your cohort, most of them are happy, some disappointed, and the school always invites the boys from the lower form to watch and you spot Nico, there in the crowd, clad in his school uniform, shirt tucked in neatly and tie properly done up while you're here in casual clothes, all too aware of the divide between the both of you.

'Congratulations,' Nico says when you're together, alone, at the bottom of the stairwell of the clock tower. You haven't seen him ever since the day you moved out, and he had sent you a postcard, but you didn't reply because you had no idea what to say to him.

'Thanks,' you say, looking at your feet. Your results slip is crushed in your palm, you've had a conditional offer from the university you want and this basically confirms your place but there's something that doesn't feel quite right about this all.

You don't have much time together. Your classmates want to go out drinking to celebrate and someone will come looking for you soon, and Nico has to get back to class anyway.

'I miss you,' Nico says, reaching for you. His fingers feel cool on your cheek.

You lean in and you kiss him and he tilts his head so that his nose doesn't get in the way. This feels just right, but you have to go, and so does he.

'I'll write to you,' you say when you pull away. He looks at you, and it looks a lot like sadness. 'Sorry I didn't reply,' you say, feeling bad now. You remember his postcard, the words _wish you were here_ written in his neat handwriting and you step closer, hugging him. 'I'll write to you from university,' you say, voice filled with conviction.

His arms are wrapped tight around you. 'Okay,' he says. He buries his face where your neck meets your shoulder, and your shirt feels wet. 'Okay.'

 

Your first term in university passes by in a blur of exams and papers and alcohol (mostly alcohol, to be honest) and here and there you get letters from Nico, updating you about how he's living in school and you don't really know what to say, you've never really been good at this and most of what you send back are scrawls on postcards when you're drunk and missing his presence beside you.

But your second term hits you square in the face and it's horrible and god, you're not cut out for all this, paper after paper and your head hurts all the time and you write to Nico, saying that you just want to lay your head on his lap and rewind but you can't go back, you can only go forward and oh, it burns. He sends you a proper letter next time, telling you that you can do this, just hang in there, he believes in you. He tells you that he'll try to sneak out, save up and take a train over during the weekend to see you and you think that if anything, _you_ should be the one doing that to see him.

 

Two weeks later, you drop out of university.

 

You join the Royal Air Force. You said you'd be a military pilot and here you are, training to be one. It's what you'd always said you'd do. But your parents are disappointed and you don't talk to them, and Nico... God, you don't even know how to face Nico. You had promised that you'd be there with him, made grand plans about sharing a flat together or something to that effect and now you've given up and called it quits and. And.

You don't tell Nico about your change of address. You don't write to him any more. It's better this way, you think. To let him think that you've gone, disappeared. Or something to that effect. He's better off without you.

Besides, there are more important things for you to worry about, like how you've never really paid any attention to the world around you before, except when you had been studying religiously to pass your interview to the college you wanted to enter for university. It's only now that you realise how frightening the world outside is, closing in.

There's an arms race outside, and you're standing on the brink of war.

 

War breaks out soon enough. You don't feel it, not yet, because it doesn't reach your shores because you are cut off from the mainland. You are told to prepare to scramble once you complete pilot training.

 

The air raids begin in the height of summer.

 

The winter is the longest that you have ever endured, and when the temperatures rise you're flying proper, engaging in dogfights. You've learnt from the best after all, and you take advantage of the powerful engine your plane has to dive and sweep. There's something about the way you fly that's different from the others who trained alongside you, you have a preference for smoothness and it's evident in the way you handle your plane, cutting through the skies with an almost enviable grace.

But there's the way you fly and there's the reason for your flight and in the beginning it's difficult, you tell yourself it's not another person behind the other plane it's just a goddamn plane, full stop, _it's you or them you or them you or them_ and each time you touch down your squadron leader tells you that he's grateful you're still alive. And sometimes you lose people, mechanics in airfields and training pilots crashing and fellow pilots downed in fights and the first time you crash-land with damage to your plane you're almost sure that you'd die but you're alive, oh, you're alive with air in your lungs and blood in your veins.

You're transferred to another airfield in the beginning of Summer. They say that more pilots are needed and while you've been up in the air and you've shot down enough planes to be considered a _flying ace_ (and you're not proud, how could you ever be, sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat pupils blown wide and all you can think of is that you could be next) and they say you'll be needed elsewhere, train some more aces to shoulder the burden of defending the skies so off you go. You're reporting for duty and there she is, _Jessy_ , up ahead in the hangar, your plane in all her glory. Looking slightly beat up, but still good. The side had taken a hit the last time you were in the air because your guns had jammed and you had to take evasive action but it's all patched now.

'Flight lieutenant Button?' your new reporting officer asks, clipboard in his arm.

'Yes sir,' you say, saluting. He nods, walking you over to your plane. There's a ladder on the other end, and someone's working on your plane.

'Flying officer Rosberg over there is your mechanic. I'll see you at 1600 hours for the debrief.'

Rosberg. Could it be?

'Yes sir,' you say as the officer leaves.

You go round your plane and you look up and there he is, on the top step of the ladder, working on your plane. Golden hair cropped short, faded mechanic's uniform. 'Hello,' you call out, not too sure of what to say. 'I'm Jenson.'

He turns, and your heart stops. You'd recognise those green eyes anywhere, even under a pair of spectacles. He looks down at you with a thin smile. 'I know.'

 

Nico's supposed to be in university. He's not supposed to be a mechanic working on your plane with a spanner in his hand and oil on his thigh on his mechanic's overalls. And you notice, small things like how he almost bends on his right knee when descending the top step of the ladder before catching himself, switching to his left leg instead. You've seen how his right knee shakes sometimes as he climbs down a flight of steps, and you wonder because you've never seen that before back in school with him. But the biggest mystery of it all is his spectacles, sitting there on his nose. He had never needed those, why now?

 

It's been weeks ever since you've been assigned to Nico's airfield and you keep dancing around each other and it's stupid, god you don't _dance_ around people — you go right up to them and turn on the charm offensive but this is no ordinary target, this is _Nico_ , the boy who had charmed you all those years ago. You don't really know if he wants you back because you fucked up back then, you said you'd keep in touch but you had messed up in university and then military school happened and yeah you're a pilot now (just like you said you'd be back then) but things are... Different. Nothing had gone according to plan. And now he's here with you again, still that golden boy from years ago, with sharper features and the light in his eyes isn't as bright as before but it's still there and god, how you wish you could just rewind and go back, whisk him away from school and hold him as the air raid goes on outside. But you can't do that, no matter how fast you go in the air you can't go back and he's here with you now, waiting for you to get the fuck out of your plane with one hand on his hip.

'Hey,' you say, and you want to reach for him but he flinches and so you draw your hand away like you had never meant to touch him at all. 'Look after Jessy for me,' you say, and he nods.

 

Nico had been caught in the first air raid. Dislocated kneecap on his right leg, eyesight screwed over. He didn't get treatment until months later, and by then he had known that he would be getting nowhere near being a pilot. Then the draft had happened, and instead of going to university, Nico had ended up as a mechanic.

And it all comes out over vodka, that one bottle you've been hoarding for forever and somehow you end up sharing it with Nico and he drinks and drinks and drinks and at some point you wonder if this was how you had been like a year ago, in university, and the thought is frightening. He looks at you and his voice is wounded when he says that he had written to you, over and over, then when everything had been sent back with the curt message _return to sender no such person_ he had stopped, burnt everything you had sent him in a fit of anger only to regret afterwards because that was the only evidence he had that you had existed in his life.

Your glass lies untouched before you as you listen with a lump in your throat. 'I'm sorry,' you say later on, the words spill out in a rush saying that you had screwed up so badly in university and when you dropped out you had felt like you could never face him again and you're so sorry god you're so, so sorry, but you know the words aren't enough.

Nico throws up on your lap.

 

You bring Nico back to your quarters and you clean him up and in the morning you're there with tea and breakfast when he wakes up with a pounding headache. He mumbles his thanks and he clutches at his head but he doesn't apologise and god, what the hell should he be apologising for anyway? _You_ are the one who screwed up, to be fair you should be grovelling at his feet telling him that you're sorry because you want him back, god you do, you've tried being with people after you had made your decision, danced with girls at bars, fumbled dead drunk with other boys but there hadn't been anyone who had ignited that flame in your heart the way Nico had. _There couldn't be anyone but you_ , you want to say to him, but things between the both of you are always drawn tight, like a taut line to hang your washing on and you had tried to keep things light between the both of you in an attempt to diffuse the tension but the truth was that you had both been running away from what you had shared. And now that everything is finally out in the open...

Things shift after this, of course. The tension that had been present previously is now replaced by a sort of awkwardness. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you things and you feel the same spark you had felt all those years ago and he pulls his hand away like he has been burnt and could it be just you going down in flames or does he feel the same? He makes no mention of moving on with other lovers after you and you don't know if you should ask but it doesn't seem like it'd be appropriate to so you keep your mouth shut and you continue, circling around one another.

It's a welcome distraction when you're on the ground, with him, like this. It reminds you that you're still human, not just the machine that you're supposed to be one with when you're up in the air. There's someone you can come back to each time, even if he's standing with one hand on his hip eyes narrowed telling you that you getting your plane damaged isn't funny when you get off, looking at him with a sheepish sort of smile.

 

When you get your arse back to the airfield after a crash landing (you're fine, of course you are, but Jessy isn't and you're pretty sure you'd burst into tears if she can't be fixed, one wing kind of wrecked and guns jammed and all that jazz) Nico looks at you (and Jessy, but mostly Jessy and not you) horrified.

'What did you do?' he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

'I crashed,' you say, and you're too distraught over Jessy to even attempt to look apologetic.

Nico studies Jessy with a frown and you find yourself clutching at his arm.

'Can you fix her?'

'Probably,' he says, then he's looking at you, eyes unreadable. You hate it when he's like this, because you can't tell what he's thinking but then again, it isn't as if you've been able to tell what he's thinking for quite a while now. 'Are you alright?'

'Me?'

He rolls his eyes. 'Not you then, I'm asking about-'

'I'm fine,' you say, cutting in quickly. You're standing close to each other now, and it's now or never, you think, as you lean in and pull him into a hug. 'It's good to be back,' you say.

Nico doesn't say a word, but he returns the hug, and that's all that matters.

 

You start slow, or at least, you _try_ to because you don't what to rush this, you don't want to ruin things. But all throughout it hangs above you, the knowledge that this could all end at any moment — this is war you're talking about, not peacetime where you can move as if you have all the time in the world. You move from hugs to kisses and soft, lingering touches, Nico's fingers tracing their way up from the inside of your wrist to the crook of your elbow just like before. It stays that way for a while, just touching, nothing more because you're not sure if Nico would want more and you'd never force him into anything, and you're all too aware that you're the one who messed it all up so you let him set the pace, ready to play along with whatever he wants.

 

When you finally end up in bed together, you're in your quarters with him lying beneath you, clothes discarded in a heap at the foot of your bed.

You reach for Nico's spectacles but he catches your wrist, stopping you.

'Sorry,' you say, leaning in to kiss him and he kisses back, lips soft.

This isn't like before, he's clutching at your shoulders and when you touch him he tells you it's okay if you want to fuck him, and when you slick your fingers up with ointment you wonder if he's done this with anyone else before but this is not the time and place to ask so you push the words down your throat and swallow it. He moans when you press a finger to his entrance, and when you work three fingers into him, stretching, he's telling you to hurry up. So you oblige, god the last thing you want is to hurt him and you groan as you enter him. He's hot and tight and he wraps his legs around your waist, huffing and telling you to go faster as you rock into him and of course you do as you're told because why the hell would you not anyway?

When he comes it gets all over his chest and body and you can't help but feel that like this, it's almost as if you're back in school all over again. But it's stupid because you're pulling out and disposing of your condom and you never did this sort of thing in school with him anyway, and he lies there on your bed, eyelids fluttering close, looking satisfied.

You return with a washcloth to clean him up, and he hums when you drag the wet cloth over his skin.

That night is the first you spend together. You curl up around him, one arm placed protectively over his hip and you're careful not to get in the way of his bad knee, and he leans back into you like he belongs there, in your arms.

 

The attack begins days later, the second wave of aerial attacks in an attempt to gain air superiority in this vicious war. The kingdom is protected in being removed from the mainland, where the rest of its allies have fighting on their soil, but is vulnerable in how it relies on its air force and its navy to keep enemy forces at bay. There had always been the idea that to launch an attack on what is essentially an island would be particularly stupid when the mainland has not been conquered because it would result in the overstretch of forces, but alas, it proves to be wrong.

You fly, of course you do, and you engage in battle and you shoot down planes and you get shot at and the idea is always to come back because you have Nico now, you have someone to fight for and you hold on to that when you fall into formation in the skies above.

But that conviction alone isn't enough to protect you, and mechanical failure forces you to make a belly landing and when you finally get back to the airfield, you're pretty certain that you and Jessy have seen better days. Nico looks at you with a strange sort of expression, and if you squint, you think you can see the tracks of his tears on his cheeks.

 

Nico tends to the wounds on Jessy, and your squadron leader tells you that you should work on training the cadets after you're cleared to return to service and that you'll be up for a promotion soon. But you don't really want it, you're content remaining as a part of a team rather than leading it because god, the responsibility is too much for you to bear. You remember losing part of your team and you'd fight to keep every last person alive but it's hard, it's so, so hard and you're not sure if that's something you can take.

 

You're taking a shower together, just like back then, when you were both in school. Or rather, it's just you sitting on a stool as Nico washes your back, careful when he's close to your wounds.

'Does it hurt?' he asks later on, when you're towelling dry.

You shake your head even though it does, you feel the sting and you're not really sure how long you'd take to heal but then again, you'd recover from this, you always do anyway. 'I'm sorry,' you say, reaching for him. He shakes his head, and you hold him close and it's only now that you realise that so much has changed, he's no longer much shorter than you and you're almost equals in terms of height. 'I'm here now,' you say, voice barely a whisper.

 

You're up in the air and you're flying and the enemy planes are coming at you and there're so many far too many coming at you like a black swarm and you start to fire at them you try to clear a path you need to get out you don't want to die not like this not up in the air hurtling down to the ground in a painful death but it's so hard _so hard so hard so hard_ -

and you wake up, disorientated and eyes blown wide and skin sticky with perspiration and Nico is wrapped up around you and it is still dark outside and god your heart pounds hard and fast against your chest _boom boom boom boom_ and all your ears ring because all you can hear is the sound of shelling non-stop and there it is, that familiar prickly feeling beneath your skin, coursing through your veins. Fear.

'Nightmare?' Nico asks, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, voice still slurred with sleep. You look at him apologetically and he hums, rearranging himself around you, nuzzling against your chest and he's warm, far too warm, but you're not complaining. The heat is comforting because it tells you that he's still here, and the heaviness of his body on yours tells you that he's not moving, he's not going anywhere. You're here with him in your tiny hole of a flat. You're not waiting for the siren to ring, not waiting for the call to scramble. It's okay. It's all okay. For now, at least. But still.

'No,' you answer, stroking his hair. 'Just woke up all of a sudden, that's all.'

'Go back to sleep then,' he murmurs.

'Mm.'

'I'm here,' he says, voice barely a whisper.

'I know.'

 

It's downtime for you, more or less. The battle is over (for now, the planes still keep coming but not as many as before) and it's been months, two days since your injury. Instead, bombers fill the skies and there're bombings in a blitz campaign, and sometimes you wake up thinking that you're hearing anti-aircraft fire but it's just you, only you. And you're supposed to be living like you're not about to scramble at any moment just for a little bit because you're on medical leave and you're not allowed to fly but it lies there, a persistent thrumming underneath your skin, like you're waiting to pounce.

When the air raid siren sounds you wake up with a start, knocking into Nico as you get up and you need to do something, _anything_ , get out of here and head for Jessy and scramble and that's when you realise that Nico's gone, you look around wildly and he's underneath the desk in your room, shivering as he clutches his knees to his chest.

You sit with him as the sirens go on, putting your arm around him, pulling him close. It's hardly a proper shelter but it'll have to do. He trembles against you and you sit together in silence until the _All Clear_ signal sounds.

God, you're both so broken and you don't even know how to fix anything, but afterwards he leans in and kisses your jaw and you hold him close and you think, at least you've got each other.

 

It's a hot and sticky night and the air is mostly still and you're kissing Nico as if you're afraid you'll never be able to have this with him again. But you _are_ truly afraid, you don't even know if the next time you're up in the air will be your last and it's awful, not knowing if you're ever coming back and you can only imagine it must be worse for Nico. You had asked him once about his family, and when you had realised that you're the only one he has left (his father was an ace during the catastrophic war fought fifteen years ago and had succumbed to his injuries in the end, his mother followed soon out of grief) you had vowed to be more careful but it's difficult when you're up there, flying amidst debris and gunfire.

You pull off his shirt slowly, kissing a trail from his lips to his jaw to his neck and down to his collarbone and you swirl your tongue just above it before sucking a bruise into his skin and he groans, fingernails digging into your shoulder. He's sitting on your lap and the last thing you want is to cause any discomfort to his knee but he tells you it's fine, this is fine, and you suck in a breath when he rolls his hips, grinding against you. You surge up against him, matching his movements and he moans, long, drawn out.

When you pull back, he's looking down at you and there's tenderness in his eyes and god, no matter what, with or without spectacles, whether his hair is long or short or even if there's stubble on his chin he'll always be beautiful to you, there should be a place up there in the stars for him because that's what he is, he shines just as brightly as them. Bathed in pale moonlight streaming in from your window he is a sight to behold, it's as if he's glittering, he's magic, and yes, he has most definitely cast a spell on you. His fingers are splayed against your chest, and you're conscious of how he's feeling your heartbeat and the steady rise and fall as you breathe underneath him.

You trail your fingers down his spine, stopping at the small of his back to rub circles into his skin there, the way he liked it in what seems to be a lifetime ago when you were both in school, and there's something about the slope of his shoulders that looks different, like there's a physical weight being lifted off them for a while and you've massaged them for him before, saying that your mechanic deserves to be pampered and he had laughed, saying that it's okay. And it's illogical really, to be thinking like this, but there's something about how he's with you this time that isn't like how he had been the first night you had gotten back together again.

His spectacles are sliding down his nose and this time, when you reach to remove them he lets you, eyes lowered and a small smile playing at his lips, like he's been waiting for you to get to this moment for far too long and you tilt your head up and kiss his nose.

'Hey,' you say, hands placed lightly on his hips.

'Hey yourself,' he replies, leaning in and you close your eyes, certain that he's going to kiss you, only to receive a bite on your lower lip. 'Come on,' he murmurs against the corner of your mouth, and it's your cue to reverse your positions. But you take your time, your hand moves lower to the swell of his arse and then you're squeezing, kneading softly and he bites back a moan.

You lay him on the bed, trying hard to be careful, god you've spent so much time being rough and now all you want is to be gentle because you've caused him enough pain already, and he looks at you with a smile on his lips, like he's amused by how you're treating him. You're conscious about where you arrange your limbs, trying not to knock against him as you bend down, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple. He's sensitive there, his earlobes are sensitive too and he squirms against you when you bite lightly at it and he comes close to losing it from having you press kisses to his inner thighs. And tonight you have all the time in the world and you're going to make the most of it with him. You pull down his trousers slowly, leaving his underwear on and he hisses when you bite on the inside of his thigh. You're determined to draw this out, and you mouth at his erection through the material of his underwear and he groans, spreading his legs obscenely wide.

' _Jenson_ ,' he whines and after all this while it still gets to you, goes right down to your groin, your name on his lips in that tone of voice that sounds like _you goddamn tease_ and _hurry up and fuck me_ all at once. But you have no intention of hurrying, you lick until the material is all wet before pulling it down slowly, freeing his cock. By then he's up on his elbows looking down at you with a glare and you laugh, hoisting yourself up to kiss him and he wrinkles his nose at you. He shifts so that he's lying back, head on your pillow and then he's unbuttoning your shirt, fingertips tracing your scars lightly when he uncovers them. You move so that you're able to take it off fully and then his fingers move lower, from your collarbone to your chest to your abdomen, stopping at the clasp of your trousers. 'Take it off,' he says, _orders_ and you've missed this so much, him telling you what he wants and you almost trip over yourself getting naked, throwing your clothes aside with his.

When you get back on the bed he's lying there with his thighs so wide apart and there're blossoms of red on his skin where you have marked him. He looks at you, eyes expectant, and it's as if he's offering himself to you, imperfections and all and you kiss him hard, knee digging into his side and when you pull away he's laughing, poking at your ribs to tell you to hurry up.

'Impatient child,' you murmur and he rolls his eyes, lips parted to give a cutting rejoinder but it turns into a sharp gasp when you push a slick finger into his entrance, knuckle by knuckle. It's your turn to laugh now because he has his eyes screwed shut, like he's afraid to look as you push another finger into him, slowly stretching him. And when you curl your fingers upwards he _screams_ and for a moment it seems that you're in danger of him kicking you but instead he reaches forward and grabs your wrist and his grip is strong and it hurts and he tells you to hurry up, this time he means it because he needs you inside him _now_.

So you hurry and really, if anything, tonight's more about him than you, and when you spread him open, slowly entering him, he's pushing back against you, like he's trying to ride your cock despite his position.

'Look at me,' you say, voice harsh when you've entered him fully and he's hot and tight and it's as if he's sucking you in and it's overwhelming, even better than before and his eyelids flutter open to look up at you and like this, without his hair falling into his eyes, you can see everything clearly even though you're not even sure what you're seeing now. He smiles, reaching up to cup your cheek and his palm is soft against the roughness of the stubble on your jaw and you don't really understand how this is possible given how he's a mechanic but here you are with him and his hand is sliding lower, his legs find their way around your waist and you hiss, feeling him drag his heel against the back of your thigh.

You thrust into him and his breath hitches when you pull out, leaving only the tip of your cock inside him only to slam into him again. The slap of skin against skin is punctuated by his moans and your harsh breathing, and soon enough the words tumble out of his lips, a breathless litany of please and oh god and your name sounds like a prayer coming from him and when he comes he bites hard on your shoulder, so hard that you're pretty certain that he draws blood.

Afterwards you're rocking into him, he's boneless and pliant beneath you and terribly oversensitive and he's trying so hard to clench around you and that's all it takes, really, and you're coming with a shout inside him.

You lie on top of him, weight shifted on one side so that you're not resting on him. You're a sticky mess, tangled up in the bed sheets and one another, and he presses his foot to your calf and god, his toes are cold. You should probably get cleaned up but you're tired and sated and he's here with you, pushing you so that he's able to shift, curling up against you.

'I,' he begins, then he hesitates.

'Hmm?'

'I,' he starts again, then he stops. You wait, patient, and it's a while later before he speaks again. 'I love you,' he says in a rush, voice muffled. His face is buried in your chest and it is only now that it hits you — that was what he had been trying to say that day in your room, when you had been packing up and getting ready to leave, but the words hadn't made it out of his mouth, and you hadn't thought to say it to him because you thought that he had already known and there would be no need to say it anyway because who says such sappy stuff anyway?

Something rises at the back of your throat, god, you had been so stupid. But now it's different, it's all different now and you're not that boy you were back then any more. You cradle his head, holding him. 'I love you too,' you reply, and he relaxes against you, making a pleased sort of noise. His limbs are entwined with yours, and this feels like home.

 

The rest of the world moves on even when you're injured. You're deemed fit enough to fly again and you go back to the airfield and it isn't just a blitz campaign, you had assumed wrong. Rest, regroup, and a third wave begins.

'Come back to me,' Nico says quietly. His eyes dart around the hangar and there're a couple of other pilots at the other end but standing behind Jessy, they can't see the both of you. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek before pulling away, looking embarrassed.

'I will,' you say, pulling him in for a hug. 'I'll come back to you.'

 

You're up there in the sky and you're flying and you don't break formation because that's not what you do and there it is, the enemy aircraft swooping down and you take evasive action but it scatters your formation and now you have to engage and you've never been much of a marksman and you're never one to back down but at the very least you have your skill at deflection shooting to rely on as you fly and that's what you do and one of them _has_ to hit and someone's going down behind you and god this is a losing battle but you have to press on because _Nico's waiting for you to come back_ and that thought keeps you going as you focus and try to navigate your way through and you land a hit and there's debris ahead and have to avoid it and you're still engaged in this fight and the plane is coming up towards you and you're firing but it's not backing down and, _and_ -

 

It's as if you're floating on something and all around you is white light and from a distance you think you can hear someone — it sounds a lot like Nico and he's saying, no, shouting _don't leave me Jenson don't go_.

'I'm right here,' you murmur. You want to open your eyes to take a look, but your eyelids are far too heavy and you lack the strength to press on. But it's okay, it's all going to be okay. Nico's by your side. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

**Author's Note:**

> beta by J and R. **not a wwii au**. title from isaiah 40:31.


End file.
